Rain
by Funeral Lilies
Summary: Draco is ten years old and afraid of the dark, but he wants to go out into the garden to feel the falling rain... Perhaps his father could go with him? NO, not incest like it says in the author's note, just a normal, healthy father&son relationship...


1

**RAIN**

**Fandom: Harry Potter**

**Pairing: Lucius/Draco**

**Rating: PG**

**Set: When Draco is about ten, on a rainy night.**

**Author's note: It was raining outside so…well, I created this silly little story. Beware of pre-slash, incest and so on. Oneshot. **

Dinner. Large, immaculately white china plates, two glasses filled with wine red as blood standing in front of his parents. Draco himself had been given a glass of milk, although he had explained to his mother countless times before that he'd rather have lemon juice instead. The food didn't taste nice, either – some kind of fish, Draco hadn't bothered to find out what it was called – and he had been waiting for the dessert to appear on the table for so long he was starting to suspect there wouldn't be any at all. His parents ate in silence, as always, not even glancing at each other. Occasionally, his mother would turn her blue eyes towards him and tell him to eat, because otherwise he would have to go to bed hungry. Draco pretended to chew, but she wasn't looking anyway. Not now.

"Mother, can I go now?" Narcissa looked at him, taking a sip of her wine. Draco's father leant back against his chair, his eyes sparkling as he watched the boy at the other end of the table. Draco was a little afraid of those eyes.

"Of course, darling, as soon as you have eaten the fish like a good boy…" Draco pouted.

"But I don't _like _it!" Narcissa smiled, shrugging a little.

"That hardly matters, does it, Draco? You can't expect to get food you like every day, what do you think your friends will think at school next year if they see you act like a baby?" Draco looked down at the disgusting mess of gray, slimy fish on his plate, wishing it would go away. His cheeks blushed with humiliation – he was _not _a baby!

"I'll be sick if I eat this", he mumbled, afraid his mother – or worse, his father – would lose patience with him and get angry. But they didn't seem to notice he had talked at all.

A quarter of an hour later, his father left the table.

"I'll be in my study" he said, "and I do not wish to be bothered." Narcissa ignored her husband completely, but Draco's eyes followed him as he left. His father wore a long, black cloak that billowed after him. Draco secretly wanted a cloak like that himself.

"Mother, may I go too?" Narcissa sighed, pouring some more wine into her glass.

"You've finished your dinner then?" She took a swig of wine, looking tired.

"No, but…" He stopped, realizing he'd better not even try. With a grimace on his face, Draco picked up his fork again and swallowed piece after bad-tasting piece of fish, until there was absolutely nothing left. His mother watched him, smiling sarcastically.

"There, now you've achieved something, darling. Off you go." Draco got to his feet, beaming at her. Narcissa was already filling her glass again.

The windows of his room were so large Draco had always been afraid of them – or rather, afraid of the evil eyes he imagined could watch him through them. His mother used to say the garden outside was full of ghosts, and Draco had no reason not to believe her. It was, of course, a beautiful garden, but each and every one of the trees had shadows a little too deep and a little too dark, and Draco knew all the flowers were poisonous. In the daytime, he had no problems with it – he was, after all, almost eleven years old, almost old enough to go to school. It was only during the night all those dark shadows made him cry with fear.

Only this time, something had changed outside, something that made Draco stop in front of the windows and peer through them, forgetting about the haunted garden. It rained. Tiny drops of water stained the window, making tapping noises as they touched the glass. All the flowers and trees down there glistened with raindrops, the lawn and the courtyard – it was all wet, and still the rain didn't stop falling. Draco watched in silence for a few moments, trying to remember last time it had rained and realized it was very long ago, then realized he wanted to be in the rain, to feel it on his face and sleep in it… Yes, he had never thought of it before but now he knew – he wanted to sleep outside in the rain, and he wanted it very much.

There was only one problem. Draco was afraid to go outside, and outside was where the rain happened to be. Outside was where he would have to go. Shutting the door to his room and walking down the hall, thinking, he could still hear the rain hit every single window of the manor. If he didn't hurry, it might stop before he got out of the house.

Draco knew there would be no use asking his mother. She had already been mean to him tonight, making him eat the disgusting fish, and perhaps she was downstairs drinking too much. It had happened before, and Draco had been quite scared of her then. Not that she had been angry or said nasty things to him, but she had not been his mother and Draco had sensed it. He knew better than to go down to the dining room now.

His father's study was at the other end of the hall, in a part of the house Draco rarely visited. The portraits on the walls were much darker here, and the people in them looked stern and even hostile. As they followed him with cold eyes, he wished he had had nicer ancestors.

The door to the study didn't look very welcoming, either. Draco wondered if his father would be very angry as he saw him – but he also wanted to go into the garden. With one small, shaking hand, Draco knocked on the door.

"Come in", came his father's voice a second later. Draco couldn't tell whether his father sounded angry or not, but he entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

His father sat behind his desk, which was covered with rolls of parchment, bottles of red and black ink, and a couple of old books. The walls in the room were impossible to see for all the bookshelves. Draco thought they towered over him like giants, and wondered how his father could stand being in here at all.

"Did you not hear me at dinner, Draco?" His father looked at him, and in the semi-darkness, Draco was unable to tell by the look on his face if there was to be some sort of punishment. He hoped there wasn't.

"I – I'm sorry, Father." Lucius smiled softly.

"Don't be." It sounded to Draco as if he was about to add something, but then corrected himself. The unexpected kindness in his father's eyes confused him, made him strangely insecure.

"So what is it that you want then, Draco, since you have come to me?" Draco remembered the tapping of rain again, and said, not daring to look at his father:

"It's raining, Father. There is rain everywhere." Lucius glanced at the window, then back at his son.

"Oh, you're right. I hadn't noticed. Why, are you scared of rain now?" A glimpse of scorn appeared in his eyes, and Draco shook his head. He was scared of many things, but rain wasn't one of them.

"Please, Father, I want to go outside. Can you come with me?" He looked down at his shoes, awaiting Lucius' cold laughter as he ordered him to return to his room.

"Look at me, Draco." The voice was soft, kind – not cold at all. Draco looked into his father's eyes, and Lucius walked towards him, slowly.

"Why do you want to be in the rain?" he asked, his hand stroking Draco's hair. Draco shivered.

"Because it makes everything clean and pretty, even if it isn't." His father's smile faded, as he took Draco in his arms and held him close. Draco put his arms around his father's neck, ignoring the fact that he was too old to be carried. He put his head against his father's shoulder, feeling soft, strong fingers stroke his cheek.

"My god, you weigh nothing" Lucius whispered. "Oh, Draco, how have I treated you?" He kissed Draco's hair, then reached for the door handle and opened the door. Draco closed his eyes, but he could feel he was carried down the stairs, to the entrance and out, out into the cool air and the falling, soothing rain…

"There", Lucius said, his voice low and barely audible. "Do you want to go out into the garden?" He put Draco down on the stone step beside him, and Draco couldn't help but wish he wouldn't have. Suddenly, he felt very cold.

"Come with me", he said, taking his father's hand. Lucius nodded.

"Of course I will."

Draco had never been so happy. His clothes were wet, his hair too, and the garden was just as beautiful as it had been when he had seen it from his room. A few meters away from him, his father was standing under a tree, watching him. Draco felt relieved that he wasn't alone, that he was with the one who loved him the most, who would do anything for him.

"Draco, perhaps it would be best if you returned to your bed… You'll catch a cold." Lucius actually seemed worried, and Draco smiled at him. Then, he looked up, and there were shadows all around, unfriendly shadows that wished to hurt him, and he realized the rain had stopped falling, that it wasn't protecting him from the ghosts anymore…

"Father" he cried, rushing into his father's arms, hiding under the long, black cloak. "It doesn't rain anymore." Lucius smiled, as he bent down to kiss Draco's cheek, and his gray eyes sparkled.

"I know, my darling. I know."

THE END


End file.
